


Broken Blood Ties

by YellowSweater (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Almost sane bellatrix, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellamione - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, Extra magic for hermione, F/F, Light grey hermione, Slow Burn, not terrible but not great voldemort, possessive!Bellatrix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 06:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20831273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/YellowSweater
Summary: “The child must never find out her true lineage. If so, I fear that any chance of our succession in this coming war” she paused, looking down at the child and running a thumb over her tan skin, “will be destroyed before the first curse can be uttered”





	Broken Blood Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Hopefully if the story if received well there will be much longer chapters.

“Hermione!” The scream echoed through all the chaos, the smashing glass and the multitude of curses that screeched through the uneven air smashed into glass and shelving only adding to the terror each person felt.

The voice was drowned out by the time it met its intended by a sea of prophecy’s that came crashing down around them, the small body of one third of the trio laid under a layer of glass. With flimsy shield spells being the only reason she wasn’t yet mixing with the fluorescent liquid that covered her body.

The barbed wire like rope that wrapped around her leg and thigh dug deeper into her flesh the more she moved. “Hermione!” Harry’s voice was further away, the panic made his voice sound as if he were only a first year. Hermione looked toward where the sound came from, seeing the body’s standing in front of the brightly lit door throwing spells gave her hope. 

On two arms, the young witch attempted to pull herself up. The rope tightened, she could feel the barbs rip into her flesh, she held back a scream. Laying back flat on the floor Hermione tried to be as still as possible. She tried to pull herself, digging her fingers into the uneven stone and pull herself. That worked for about two minutes, until a stray glass globe, thrown by the people that ruined their rescue mission, smashed into vulnerable flesh. She watched as all the body’s, darkened the the shadows of the light, stood. Pleading with chaos for hope to prevail. But with a tug from a slightly taller form, Harry ran. 

The thick glass of the sphere embedding itself into bone and tissue, a guttural scream ripped from Hermione’s core. Grasping for anything, a fist full of glass cut through fingers and arms as she flailed trying to escape the pain.

The muggle term for what Hermione then experience was shock, she didn’t know what refined witches and wizards would call it. Perhaps they would think it was just a muggle thing, they would dismiss it as a primitive response to pain. But Hermione froze, unlike she had ever before. Her body unresponsive to anything, no command she gave was followed through.

She watched as the liquid that she laid in began to glow, fluorescent blue swirled with the dark red that flowed from most of her limbs. Blue and red made a deep, glowing purple as the colours mixed. The glowing colour slowly made its way to her wounds, gashes inches thick and deep began to glow. The blue began to seep into her skin, lighting up her veins in a spectacular mix of colour and light.

“Well well well. What do we have here.” A dark body stood above her own, Hermione’s stomach fell further threw the floor, “A little. Baby. Mudblood” the figure kicked the body on the floor, not in a sign of aggression, more out of curiosity.

The glass that surrounded hermione was flicked away with a swish of a crooked wand. A pair of heeled boots came into Hermione’s vision, then a set of hands set down on the stone with lace that wrapped around her fingers and long, black and sharp nails that seemed to be inconvenient at the best of times scratched the stone. Deep black curls soon touched the floor, a black that seemed to absorb all colour, light and attention.

Then, without warning nor caution, a pale hand rose from the ground and ran over the many abrasions and glass shards that marred Hermione’s cheek. It didn’t feel full of cruel intention, the nails gently ran across tan skin with apprehension. A face of pure beauty and horror laid next to Hermione, taking up all her view she watched as the woman grabbed her hand and interlocked her fingers with her own and raised the bleeding hand to her lips, pressing them to the wounds. Shock still engulfed her body, though if she were granted permission she didn’t know if she would willingly move.

“Little, beautiful, Mudblood.” Those simple words through all kinds of thoughts through Hermione’s head. She knew who this woman was, her reputation for her pure hatred of Muggleborns. Why was she here, she knew why. To torture her, to get her to tell her all about Harry Potter.

A wicked smile appeared on her face, sharp almost fang like teeth brimmed her dark lips, “don’t think of such useless things pet.” The softness almost scared hermione, such gentleness from who is know as a very erratic and violent person gave her a sick feeling. Perhaps it was the smile or the eyes that roamed every detail of her face. But something made her want to run or melt into the stone. A wand appeared above her, one that she read so much about in secret research. “Rest now. Things will be much better when you wake” a gesture that hermione knew to be a simple sleep charm engulfed her.

Hermione didn’t dream, instead she watched as colour swirled though her brain. With a constant, black cloud floating through brightening all the surrounding colour, giving it new life. Slowly the blackness would absorb certain colours, reds and greens mostly. But as she watched the colour never disappeared, but dimmed. Did this mean something, was this something she was to take meaning from. What was she to get her from a kaleidoscope, no revelation hit her. Was she damaged? She didn’t know the extent of her injuries other than they were painful, pain in a difficult thing to describe. What hurt more? The pain of being attacked or knowing she was the only one not to make it out. Did that make what she heard true. Was she lesser?

She didn’t want to think about what would occur when she awoke. She wanted to stay here, watch the colours. Even in her unconscious state she could feel her body, certain gentle touch’s to her skin would make everything blur while more harsh touches would cause things to go a horrible blaring feeling that could only be experienced.


End file.
